View full sizeMichael Lloyd/The OregonianRod Underhill, seen here attending a gang task force meeting in April, has highlighted three areas of focus: gangs, family violence and crime-victims' rights. Underhill has built a reputation for cracking difficult gang cases. In 2009, he worked Christmas Eve trying a murder defendant -- resulting in a life sentence for Jerrin Hickman, a notorious gang member who investigators say had repeatedly dodged major criminal charges into his 30s.

More than 16 years after the murder of a young mother, prosecutor Rod Underhill remembers details of the case with near perfect recall:

The woman's 2-year-old son found alone in a locked car in front of Portland's Greyhound bus station. The maid who discovered the blood-soaked mattress in the Northeast 82nd Avenue motel room a few hours later. The store that sold her ex-boyfriend the knife he used to cut her throat.

He remembers Yolanda Panek held the record for shot put at Madison High School and was a member of her school's Rose Festival Court.

Panek's body was never found -- often an overwhelming obstacle to building a case. But Underhill brought it to trial -- including presenting evidence he and detectives uncovered after diving into trash bins. A jury took just one hour to find Abdur Al-Wadud guilty.

Panek's mother, Susan, was so moved by all Underhill had done that she renamed her grandson "Rodney." Underhill has kept in touch with the boy, now 18.

"He's so proud that this is his very first election ... and he gets to vote for his namesake, Rod Underhill," Susan Panek said.

Underhill's work on the case reflects his reputation among judges, colleagues, police, defense attorneys and crime victims: smart, devoted, compassionate, a straight-shooter and a tough-as-nails trial lawyer. Those are among the reasons they say Underhill will make a good district attorney when he's elected Multnomah County's top prosecutor today.

Underhill file

Salary: $156,752 a year, a $1,134 raise

When: DA Michael Schrunk will step down in the fall at the earliest. His four-year term ends Jan. 6.

Preventing gang violence: He's working with police, probation officers and community leaders to identify the top 10 gang-torn families, then flooding them with opportunities such as jobs, state assistance and tutoring and mentoring for their children.

Human trafficking: Gangs today are more likely to make money from prostitution than drugs, Underhill says, so law enforcement must look for human-trafficking victims rather than just drugs when they encounter gang members and their "girlfriends."

Double-dipping: Underhill says he'll phase out the practice of allowing retired staffers collecting state pensions to return to work half time in his office.

Capital punishment: Although DA Mike Schrunk is against the death penalty and Underhill supports it in some cases, nothing much will change in the office's approach.

Underhill is the only candidate in the race. Observers say that's not for lack of interest from others, but rather a recognition that Underhill is the right person for the job -- or that no one thought they could beat him.

Underhill, 51, will replace District Attorney Michael Schrunk, 70, who will retire by the end of the year after 31 years holding office in Oregon's largest county.

Five years ago, Schrunk promoted Underhill to be one of his two chief deputies. When it came time to endorse a successor, Schrunk chose Underhill -- disappointing two other former prosecutors, Kellie Johnson and Sean Riddell, who had asked for his approval.

As DA, Underhill will oversee more than 70 lawyers and provide overall direction in the office, such as when to level charges in controversial cases or how much prison time is acceptable for someone who drinks, drives and kills. He also must decide how to allocate shrinking resources (Schrunk, for example, has chosen not to pursue criminal charges against people caught with small amounts of meth, heroin and cocaine).

Underhill said he lives by Schrunk's motto that when a tough decision must be made, his attorneys should follow their gut and "do the right thing."

"I've had a good teacher," he said. The public shouldn't expect big changes, he said. Troubled brother

Of the more than 20 people interviewed for this story, nearly all had unabashed praise for Underhill. A few, however, wondered whether he'll be able to stand behind his staff when political firestorms erupt and he faces political pressure to back pedal.

But even his natural adversaries compliment his work.

Lisa Ludwig, a Portland defense attorney who has gone head-to-head against Underhill in trial, said she appreciates how he doesn't fit the stereotype of the bull-headed prosecutor who believes prison is the answer to every case. He will sometimes agree to drug, alcohol or mental health counseling instead.

Ludwig even held a fundraiser for him at her house. "I have a picture of him kissing my kid," she said, with a chuckle. "It's hard not to like him."

Although Underhill -- lean, 6-foot-1, always in suit and tie -- looks as if he fits neatly into the button-down world of lawyering, he came from working-class beginnings. Neither of his parents went to college. His mother was a stay-at-home mom who managed rentals on the side. His dad worked on dredges on the Columbia and Willamette rivers.

Underhill grew up in Vancouver. He painted houses during the summers, earning money for Lane Community College, then Western Washington University and finally the University of Oregon School of Law. He landed his first job out of law school in 1988 as a 27-year-old in the Multnomah County district attorney's office, where he has spent his entire career.

Meanwhile, his younger brother was appearing on drug charges in some of the very courtrooms where Underhill was prosecuting gang shootings, domestic violence and drug crimes.

His brother's three-decade struggle with drugs gave Underhill an unusual perspective that many prosecutors don't get. He said he understands the helplessness and sometimes embarrassment of defendants' families.

"Sometimes (I was) mad as hell, wanting nothing to do with him, and sometimes (I was) wanting to help," Underhill said. "I believe in second chances. When I say second chances, it was his 102nd chance."

His brother, John, was ultimately convicted of dealing meth in Washington and served three years in prison before being released in 2008. He's been clean ever since, working in an iron foundry in Spokane. The brothers see each other at holidays and visit at other times throughout the year.

Among his most memorable cases, he said, are the cases that have stirred community outrage, the ones that touched off a collective need to see justice served.

There was the murder of 21-year-old Yolanda Panek in 1995. And the case of 14-year-old Melissa Bittler, who was on her way to school in 2001 when she was grabbed by a stranger, raped and murdered in a neighbor's backyard.

Underhill also talks about the murder of 24-year-old Asia Bell, killed when gang members shot up her North Portland porch in 2002. The case went cold -- Bell was not associated with a gang -- until Underhill and detectives used covertly recorded phone conversations to convict her killers in 2008.

Underhill said he likes the message these successful prosecutions send: "If you kill someone, you don't get away with it."